Page 66 of The Last Autograph

“Okay. I was in Wales once, Cardiff?—”

“I’ve always wanted to go to the UK. To see Buckingham Palace and The Ritz and visit my cousins in London.”

He held her gaze and offered a slight smile.

“Sorry… continue.”

“Anyway, I came across this quirky little bookstore where a young woman was doing a book signing. I strolled past at first, but a while later I noticed she still had a stack of books left in front of her.”

“So what did you do?”

“Naturally, I stopped, and we started talking. In the end, I bought a copy simply because I felt sorry for her. Much later, I discovered she was a big deal on social media for her poems on life and relationships.”

“Read me something.”

He screwed up his face. “I hate reading out loud.”

“Please.”

Jake took a deep breath, picked up the book, and opened it to the marked page. He began to read, his voice clear and melodic. The poem told the story of a young woman who felt her man never saw past the physical, and its insightful words resonated deeply with Molly.

She relaxed back in the bubbles and closed her eyes, letting his poetic voice wash over her. And when he’d finished, neither of them spoke for several minutes.

“The other night, when I read that,” Jake said eventually, “it reminded me of you. Promise me, if I ever have my blinkers on, you’ll give me a shove.”

“Are you for real?” she whispered as she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She’d never had a guy read to her before, let alone from a heartfelt book of poetry while she lay in his bathtub surrounded by candlelight. How had this man come to mean so much to her in such a short space of time?

He leaned forward to kiss her. “Very real.” His hands moved to the buckle of his belt. “I’ll show you.”

Naked, Jake slipped in behind her, his long legs stretched out so she could nestle between them and arms draped along the rim of the tub. They discussed the poem—how words and their meanings could often be misconstrued.

With his hand on her chin and his desire pressing into the small of her back, Jake tilted Molly’s face side-on so he could kiss her—soft and warm yet so intense that she could scarcely hold on to the slim thread of reality she’d managed to grasp.

“You’re an amazing kisser,” he murmured, one hand lightly holding her throat as he stroked himself up and down against her buttocks. “It’s such a gift.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty good yourself.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Not at all. You’re everything I imagined and more.”

They kissed now with a ferocity that shocked her. And as Jake teased her with his fingers and she returned the favor, Molly realized that his idea of foreplay surpassed anything she’d ever experienced before.

He reached into the basket for a foil packet, ripped it open, and turned her around so she straddled him. He handed her the condom, and she gazed down at his erection rearing above the waterline.

Jake pulled the plug, and the water drained from beneath them. When she questioned him with a look, he smiled and said, “It’s better, believe me.”

As he entered her, that lazy smile of his spoke volumes. They rocked together, the porcelain of the tub still warm from the water and Jake so fully inside of her that it hurt in the most delicious way possible.

Jake slowed his pace to a stop. “Stand up,mon ange.”

Even though she had no idea what it meant, just the way he said it, his French enunciation caressing her ears like poetry, meant she’d do whatever he asked without question. With her hands on either side of the tub, she pushed herself to standing.

He stood on the floor behind her, putting him at the perfect height, and wrapped an arm around her at hip level. “Come closer.”

Molly pushed back into him and, at his whispered command, braced herself against the wall. And as they found their rhythm, he grasped her ponytail and gave it a gentle tug, several husky profanities falling from his lips as he followed her release.

She’d anticipated spending a lazy Sunday together, making pancakes and drinking coffee. Instead, Jake rose early and left for a prearranged surf with Todd. And as she lay alone in his room, the scent of his sex surrounding her and the sun shining almost too brightly through the half-open curtains, Molly couldn’t shake the feeling that he was struggling with his attraction to her.

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